


Safe Words

by tjmystic



Series: Birthday Fics [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is a prostitute</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Safe Words  
Birthday Fic #8

Rating: oh so veeeeeeerrrrry NC-17

somethingstately prompted: woobie!Rum; anon prompted: Belle is a prostitute

Author’s Note: First off, thanks to the RMC for the title - you know who you are, lovely ;) Next, hope you enjoy this - it’s a bit different from my usual stuff, so just let me know if it bombs. And if it doesn’t, enjoy! :D

 

There weren’t any prostitutes in Avonlea. King Cole, old and set in his ways, had outlawed it decades ago (there were rumors that it had to do with his only son, who gave up the throne for a seat between the whorehouse owner’s thighs). 

Whatever the reason was, though, it was a well-known fact that Avonlea wasn’t the place for a man seeking company for the night.

Unless you knew who you were looking for, of course…

Belle lit the candle in her window like she did every night at nine. It was a subtle beacon, distinguishable only in that its light was faintly red instead of yellow. For Belle’s purposes, though, subtlety was definitely the best option – the last thing she needed was to be caught with her pants down. Or, rather, someone else’s pants down.

She didn’t do this for any untoward reason - she wasn’t diseased, she didn’t have a pimp, she hadn’t been sold. In all other aspects of her life, she was the perfect, pristine princess. She just liked sex. Plain and simple. Having a man’s cock between her thighs, in her mouth, in her hand, was the best feeling she’d experienced in her mere twenty years of life. And if they knew how to pleasure her, too… well, that just made it all the better.

Her father, one of the first knights in the king’s army, would likely strangle her if ever he found out, though. If it weren’t for the fact that she was his only means of support (and, of course, the even worse fact that she couldn’t not love him), she’d have left ages ago. But she was, and she did, so she resorted to living her sordid double life. 

Every night of the workweek, Belle snuck out through the servants’ quarters, and relied on word of mouth to keep her well employed. 

And every night, without fail, she lit her red candle to draw them in like moths to a flame.

Knock, knock.

“Enter,” she called, shimmying out of her last petticoat. Whoever it was was early – most of her clothes remained on her body, and her hair was still in its tight chignon. 

“Is… is this the room of Sir Maurice’s daughter?”

Belle closed her eyes, playing a little game with herself before they started – his accent was unmistakable as that of the Frontlands, thick and rich and rolling in a way that made her toes curl. Sympathy for the man welled up in her heart, though – it was no secret that the Frontlands had long ago been overtaken by ogres. It was also no secret that their Duke had the potential to rid them all of the beasts, and chose instead to sacrifice the children of the peasantry. She imagined he’d be a soldier, then, strong and rough and chiseled like her ex-fiancé. She sighed in disappointment – handsome as Gaston was, the happiest day of her life was the day he announced his engagement to a neighboring lady and left her in the dust.

“It is,” she said, rising just enough to give him a curtsy. “Lady Belle at your service.”

A dull scrape interrupted her halfway down, and she jerked up to say what was wrong. She was surprised to see that this man – who still hadn’t revealed his name – didn’t look a thing like her Gaston. Indeed, she couldn’t imagine anyone looking more different. He was short, for one thing, barely five inches taller than herself, if she had to guess, and appallingly thin. He might’ve been taller if it weren’t for his bent leg. (She assumed it was his leg, anyway – the source of the noise, a long wooden rod, leaned heavily against his right hip in hopes of straightening it out.) His face and hands displayed the weathered wrinkles of a man who had to earn his living. But his eyes… she would enjoy watching his eyes when he pounded into her later. They were deep pools of milk chocolate, warm and sweet and softer than eyes had the right to look. Belle smiled at him – this was already shaping up to be a good night.

“Well, make yourself comfortable,” she greeted, gesturing to the bed. She hadn’t quite gotten a grip on his character yet, but it still was obvious that he was nervous.

He complied with a jerky nod of his head, hobbling to the mattress and setting down on the edge. Her lip quirked up mirthlessly – he looked so surprised at the feeling of a bed set so soft. She bit her lip and went back to removing her clothes – her self-appointed job was to offer him solace with her body, not try to delve into his mind.

“First things first, then – how did you hear about me?”

She made sure to keep her tone nice and even. One of Belle’s key rules for herself was a strict ban on suspicion - if she doubted her patrons, she’d start doubting herself, and she refused to punish or degrade herself like that. In moments where she was untainted by paranoia of the King’s laws, she felt no guilt about her actions. That was all the proof she needed to know that her behavior wasn’t wrong. 

Still, a little curiosity never hurt. If anything, it only heightened the connection between herself and her lover for later.

“I heard rumors in the tavern last night,” he stuttered. Even with his stumbling speech, the “r” echoed throughout his whole sentence. Belle foolishly entertained the thought that she’d prefer to be named Rita or Rosemary. “Someone there mentioned your… occupation. They weren’t particularly nice about it, but…”

He droned off. Belle waited long moments for him to continue, maybe to explain what they’d been saying about her, but he obviously didn’t have any intention of doing so.

“Alright. So, why are you here?”

“I’m… I was selling things at the market. With my son - he-he’s with the innkeeper. I think she pities the boy.”

Belle fought back the urge to hug him - someone so sweet should never look so embarrassed. 

“I’m sure your son is a sweet boy,” she reassured him. She was relieved to see his face break into an honest smile. ”But that wasn’t quite what I meant, mister…?”

“Rumplestiltskin.”

Belle laughed - he couldn’t say “I” without faltering, but he could say his mouthful of a name with perfect ease.

“That’s a bit much for me,” she giggled, petting his hand to let him know she wasn’t mocking him. ”Is there something shorter I could use? A nickname maybe?”

He shrugged, causing his flour sack tunic to slide down his shoulder. Belle bit back a groan - the man was certainly older than she was, maybe even older than her father, but, if his arms were anything to go by, he was nothing but sinewy muscle. This would be fun.

“I suppose you could call me Rumple, if you wish,” he mumbled. ”Or Rum, maybe?”

“I like Rum,” she grinned, knowing she quite resembled the cat that caught the canary. ”It reminds me of my favorite drink.”

He gulped, forcing the tendons in his neck into sharp relief. Belle licked her lips - favorite drink, indeed. 

“That’s… that’s fine with me, miss.”

“Belle, if you please.”

He repeated her name under his breath, almost too quiet to be heard. She gripped his fingers once more to relax him, then quickly drew away to start undoing her hair. 

“Good. Now, what I meant was why are you looking for my company tonight? You could’ve gone to any brothel around if all you wanted was a good time.”

His face burned even darker. “The man I ran into, he said you wouldn’t-wouldn’t likely make fun of me if I don’t do… well.”

“And you have reason to doubt your performance?” she smirked. She was so grateful when he realized she was teasing – his whole demeanor instantly relaxed by a solid inch.

“I don’t have reason to think I’ll be good,” he answered, fingers twitching over his staff. “I, uh, I’m worried that I won’t be able to please my wife.”

Belle smirked. This man’s type was rare, almost nonexistent, but she loved their service all the same. Timid grooms were among the sweetest lovers in the universe, and she pitied the woman who didn’t know what it was like to teach one. 

“I see,” she hummed, unpinning the final comb from her hair. ”So, when’s the big day?”

“Wh-what?” he stammered. Belle shook her head indulgently - he was too cute. 

“Your wedding night,” she laughed. ”How soon is it?”

He barked out a bitter laugh. ”Five years ago.” 

Belle’s fingers skidded over her clips, hair cascading messily from its place. ”What?”

It took him a moment to answer - she hadn’t realized at first, but his eyes were now pitch black and glued on her flowing locks. ”I think it’s been five years,” he murmured. ”Maybe a little longer. Bae’s sixth birthday is in just a week.”

“So you had your son out of wedlock, and you haven’t touched your wife since?” she asked slowly. Belle knew she was missing something, she just didn’t know what. 

He looked away so she wouldn’t see the red shame in his cheeks, but he was too slow. ”I’ve never touched her at all.”

“But, your son -“

“He’s my son in all the ways that count.”

He was too soft spoken, too kind, she imagined, to sound stern, but he managed to be certain and serious at the least. She had to give him credit - whatever the relationship between him and his wife was, he honestly cared about his son. Belle had learned to recognize the look of a father who loved his children - if only so she could search her own father’s eyes for a trace of it. She wasn’t often pleased by what she found. In a span of less than three seconds, this man had wormed his way into her heart.

She couldn’t decide if she appreciated the sudden affection for him or not. 

“I… I’m sorry, miss. Belle,” he flushed. ”It… I never should’ve come here. Should’ve known you wouldn’t want… I’ll just show myself out.”

Belle lurched towards him, grabbing for his hands before he could stand. ”Don’t go. Please.” 

He shivered under her hand, eyes fluttering closed at her “please”. Belle almost cringed - what sort of woman was his wife to make him grateful for merely a request to stay?

“I’m sorry for being silent, Rum,” she apologized, moving her fingers up to caress his cheek. Unwittingly, he leaned into her touch and nuzzled the base of her palm. ”It’s just that you surprised me. That doesn’t happen often to me in this room.”

Rum forced himself to blink up at her. ”You shouldn’t apologize to me, mistress. I’m a servant - you’re a lady.”

“Not here, right now,” she corrected harshly. ”In this room, you get to forget about your class. I only ask that you offer me the same right.”

He looked even more dreadfully taken aback and bewildered. It really was taking all of her self control to keep from latching around him and promising that everything would be okay.

DING, DONG!

Both of them leapt away from the window, he poised to run and she prepared to fight. Thankfully, neither reaction was necessary – it was just the clock tower in town square. 

They met each other’s eyes, silently laughing at their mutual stupidity.

“Let’s set back down,” Belle smiled, gently nudging him back onto the bed. “It always helps to relax before you start on seduction.”

Rum’s cheeks tinged with that lovely shade of pink again, but he continued to laugh along with her. “As I said, I wouldn’t know. Forty years under my belt and I’ve… well, never had anyone else under my belt.”

Belle snickered, then outright chuckled at the disbelief on his face. It wasn’t funny that no one laughed at his jokes, but his expression was too precious for her to contain.

“I’m sorry, miss -“

“Belle,” she reminded. 

He smiled bashfully. ”Belle. Sorry. I just wanted to apologize for taking so long. I suppose we should just… get it over and done with, then.”

“No, no, keep talking,” Belle insisted. ”I’m sure this will come as a surprise to you, but I don’t really get to talk to anyone in here.”

He choked on a laugh, and Belle just managed to clamp down on her victorious smile - so she could make him happy, too.

“No, I suppose not. Well, err, if it isn’t to bold of me to ask then… how did you get into this mess? Pretty daughter of a knight and all that.”

She bit her tongue to ward off the childish of question, “You really think I’m pretty?” Vain she was not, but Belle knew that men found her attractive - pretending otherwise would be an ill-concealed attempt at begging for flattery.

“It’s not as much of a mess as you’d think,” she smiled. ”I suppose this is just my own way of having a teenage rebellion. I’m a few years too late for the ‘teenage’ part, but still.”

He blinked at her curiously, obviously not understanding a word she’d said.

“I just mean that it’s not that bad. I know how to recognize wicked men, and I make sure they’re turned out immediately. Most everyone else is just looking for some fun for the night, same as me. As long as I don’t think it’s wrong, and no one’s getting hurt, I don’t see the problem with it.”

She laughed and glanced briefly out the window again. ”And they don’t know this, of course, but I spend most of what I earn on the children in the orphanage. Clothes and food and books.”

“Books?”

She smacked him playfully. ”Books are just as important to a lonely child as food, thank you! They’re the only means of escape allowed to them.”

He shook his head, bemused but deeply impressed. ”That’s very kind of you, mi- Belle.”

Belle’s face warmed at the compliment, but she brushed both it and the fuzzy feeling that accompanied away. Much as she liked Rum, he seemed intent on turning her into a selfish teenager.

“Well, enough about me, what about you and your wife? There has to be a story there - six years without sleeping together?”

The amusement fled his face quick as a summer breeze. Before he even spoke, Belle knew he’d only tell her the bare facts, and quickly at that.

“I’m a disappointment. That’s all it is, Belle. She’d never have saddled herself with me if she hadn’t been pregnant. Milah - my wife - she likes the company of travelers at the pub.” He gestured vaguely at Belle’s body, embarrassed instead of demeaning like so many others. ”That’s why I came here. I thought, maybe, if I knew what I was doing… well, maybe she wouldn’t go elsewhere for her fun. My boy needs his mother.”

Belle’s heart thumped dully in her chest. Men didn’t care so genuinely for their children. They couldn’t open up about their painful truths. They never set aside their pride, especially not where “their women” were concerned. Belle knew all of this - it was one of many reasons she hated living under her father’s thumb.

And yet, this poor “servant”, as he’d termed himself, did all of that and more. It was a sad sight indeed when the sheep was wiser than the shepherd. 

“And… and I think you can help me,” he finished slowly, a quiet afterthought to the rest. 

Their eyes locked. Belle was struck again by just how warm and inviting the orbs were, almost as if he was begging her to swim in his soul. She wanted to. She wondered if she hadn’t already.

Belle, feeling unnaturally heated, broke their eye-contact first.

“Well, I suppose we’ve got a lot of work to do,” she said teasingly, hoping it would clear up the heavy moment. 

It didn’t, but Rum made a good show of acting as if it did. 

“Whatever my Belle commands,” he agreed with a smile. 

Tingles shot up Belle’s spine. She’d never appreciated being talked about like someone else’s belonging. But the idea of being Rum’s, even if he’d only said it in jest, had her feeling uncomfortably warm between her thighs.

Mind whirring, Belle stepped forward and gently tugged the sack-like shirt off his shoulders. Her throat felt tight and hoarse at the sight of his bare chest. Rum wasn’t half as muscular as the rest of her patrons, almost pigeon-chested if she told the truth, but something about seeing him so open, so naked, just for her made her whole body clench. 

Gulping, Belle dug her fingers lower, searching for his waistband. He stilled her before she could get there, and his hot sweaty palms on hers made her shake.

“Not… not just yet, Belle,” he begged. ”You’re beautiful, truly, but I’m not… just, give me a moment to get ready.”

Belle’s lips quirked up at the edges, and she gently pushed into him with a kiss on his navel. The muscles there clenched.

“Rum, I never want you to think you have to apologize to me,” she whispered. ”All of this is supposed to feel good.”

He was still shaking too much to comply. With a careful sigh, trying not to startle him with her chill breath, she released his pants and moved back to her own clothes. It was ridiculously easy to strip off her corset and pantaloons - that’s why she’d chosen them, after all - so she was bared to his sight within moments. Belle rested her palms on her hips, jutting her body out for his perusal, and she smiled brilliantly as his eyes went pitch black.

“Most women are just as self-conscious as you are. That’s why you have to know the little tricks about touching them. Like me, for example,” she cupped her hands lightly around her breasts, trying not to moan when her nipples peeked through her fingers. ”I love to have my breasts touched. Touch me here, and I’m yours. But every woman’s different. Some like to be bitten, some like their ears to be stroked.” Mischievously, she traced her left hand up the column of her throat and into her mouth, the bump of her chin, the swell of her bottom lip. She curled her tongue around her fingers, making sure they popped on their way out. ”But it isn’t just about teaching you how to please someone else. It’s about learning how to please yourself. Watch me.”

“Watch you? But why - oh gods…”

Belle’s laughter escaped her in a shuddering gasp. She couldn’t manage much else with her knuckles buried to the hilt inside her body. 

“See?” Her breath hitched as she ground into her palm. ”It’s all… all about feeling relaxed with yourself.” She moved her thumb to her clit, head falling back when the little bud slipped over her nail. ”You just find what feels good, and you keep going after it.”

She bucked up once again before easing everything but her fingertips out. Her body was maddeningly unsatisfied now, but this session wasn’t about her - for once, she was using the only thing she loved as much as books as a teaching tool.

“Okay, your turn.”

Rum gulped. His hands shook, his nostrils flared, his face blanched - the poor man was terrified. But Belle had to give him credit where credit was due - for all his terror, he moved faster than a bewitched cobra.

She’d barely edged her fingers back into her slit when they were suddenly ripped from her body. Belle moaned at the loss, trying to work her way back, but he got there first. He tucked his finger into her slippery opening, eyes wide, no doubt, because of how wet she was. He curled it in quick, pressing against the gnarled little pad that made her scream. Deliberately or out of nerves, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to never stop touching her there.

“Am I right, Belle?” he asked frantically, curling his index again. She had to brace herself on the wooden backboard to keep from falling. 

“Per-perfect, Rum,” she whimpered. ”But I actually meant that I wanted to watch you touch yourself.”

His face went bright red, and he immediately withdrew his hand. Her pussy clenched against the cold air, trying to fill up with that wonderful pressure again, and her hips careened forward of their own accord. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. He looked at his hand like he wanted to lick it again. Belle groaned when he decided to wipe it on his pants instead. 

“Don’t… don’t apologize,” she begged. ”Just finish what you started. I can watch you in a minute.”

“Are… are you sure?” he mumbled. His eyes were coal, watery with lust, and Belle bit her lip to keep from screaming. 

“Positive. Now, please…?”

His tongue darted out again, and Belle couldn’t help herself – this time, she dove forward to envelop the muscle in her mouth, sucking on his chapped but plump lips to the tune of her sex slapping wetly against his thigh. 

“More,” she pleaded, rubbing herself furiously on his haunches. She’d prefer the feel of his skin – would his legs be covered in coarse hair, or would they be smooth as her silks? – but the scratchy fabric was doing wanders on her naked clit. 

Rum nodded obediently and pushed his hand back into her, all four fingers this time instead of just the one. She let out a shuddered in surprise and pleasure - he’d taken her prayer for “more” quite literally, it seemed.

“Here?” he asked cautiously, using his free thumb to tap against her clit. She frantically agreed.

“RIGHT there! Just don’t stop!”

“Tell-tell me if I’m doing anything wrong,” he gasped, eyes wide as an owl’s when she humped rapidly on his palm. ”I… I’d like to know if I can improve.”

The only response she could muster up was, “Wonderful, just there!”

She knew she was meant to be instructing him, but she honestly couldn’t think of anything he could improve on. His tempo was delicious, slow and hard all at once, thumb never pressing more than a gentle tap against her clit. Once or twice, he dipped it into her lips, too slick to hold the little pearl still for long. 

It took the merest flick of his other hand against her breast, the anxious look on his face as if worried he’d be punished for doing wrong, and she was orgasming hard around his wrist, yanking her body to and fro as she rode out the aftershocks. As the last tremors died out, she felt something broader, smoother, bump against her clit. It was only when she felt the chill wind on her breasts again that she realized why - he’d somehow managed to strip off his pants, and his hand was now wrapped around his cock. He fucked into his fist without hesitation.

She eased his hand out of her pussy as her shaking stopped, holding off her next orgasm until his cock was firmly encased there. 

“Let me see you, love,” she panted, covering his busy hand briefly with her own. “I wanna see how you do it so I’ll know what makes you feel good.”

“I’m feeling pretty perfect as is,” he muttered. Touched as she was by the sentiment, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but watch enrapt as he slid his thumb over the head of his cock. 

It was thicker than she’d expected, somewhat short but engorged enough to have her wondering how he’d fit. When his open slit started to leak with the beginnings of his completion, though, all her worries flew out the window, replaced by pure lust and lust alone.

“Oh, just like that Rum. Just like that.” She rewarded him with a tiny lick to the side of his finger, and his cock spasmed up toward her lips. “I love this, Rum. It’s so smooth and soft. The rest of you is all rough, and gnarled.”

He looked embarrassed and self-conscious again, so Belle took it away with a slightly longer lick. He shivered into her mouth. “I like gnarled, Rum. It means you’ll hit everything when you finally get to come into me.”

“Oh, fuck, Belle!” he pumped a little harder, making his head disappear into the juicy flap of foreskin again. She’d never found it particularly arousing before – in fact, she preferred for her men to be neatly trimmed – but the way his slipped and slid over his weeping slit had her itching to have him inside.

Unable to hold back any longer, she ripped his hands from his cock and pushed him back onto her pillows.

“Good, Rum,” she hissed – in her haste, she’d impaled her stomach on his cock, now soaked with a little pearl of white from his desires. “Good. You ready for the rest?”

She didn’t know if it was for the begging note in her voice or his own rampant desires, but he nodded almost as soon as the words had left her lips. 

Belle didn’t wait for any further confirmation - couldn’t, if she was perfectly honest. In one slow, smooth stroke, she embedded his rigid cock in her womb and pumped up so that her arse wiggled against his balls. They both grunted from the pleasure.

“How is it, Rum?” she asked into his chest, tonguing at his nipple while she slowly rocked up and down. 

“Amazing,” he whimpered, gripping her shoulders tight enough to bruise. ”Didn’t know you could be on top.”

She snickered, but it was short lived when his cock twitched to hit against the pad below her mound. ”I was worried about your knee.” She brushed against the bony joint, then leaned down close to lick at his ear. ”And besides that, I’m the teacher. It’s just respect for me to be at the head.”

His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands dropped lower to grip at her hips and arse. ”Do… do women normally talk during this?”

“Why?” she asked with a pronounced wiggle. ”Do you not like it?”

He moaned and finally took a notion to nudge up with her. She beamed as his hipbone hit against her own. ”Love it. Just don’t know how long I can last.”

“Oh, are you close then?” she moaned, tugging on the lobe with her teeth now. ”Why is that? Do I feel good around you?”

Rum nodded. ”So tight. Didn’t know you’d be so fucking tight.”

She shivered at his curse, shivered again when her clumsy nipping made him scream. ”Talk like that and you’ll have every woman in the Forest wanting you.”

Words bubbled up in his throat, but he bit down hard before he could say them. Belle tried to think of what it could be, but nothing came to mind. She returned to nibbling his ear, instead, using his pleasure to fight off her irksome curiosity. ”Are you getting closer, Rum? Is your cock hard and tight and pulling inside me? Does it want to explode in me? Are you about to cum inside me, Rum, are you -?”

He shouted, a string of incomprehensible nonsense as he slammed her onto her back, plunging deeper into her body and bellowing his ecstasy. For a moment, she thought she’d heard him say, “Don’t want them, just you,” but unable to make heads or tails of the phrase, she let it go. Couldn’t do much of anything else, really, when he insisted on riding her like a pony.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he moaned, pounding into her fast and hard and desperate. 

Belle reached backwards for the headboard, curling her fingers under it for support. Her hips had welded into his, it felt, thrusting up with such abandon as they tried to keep his pace.

“Don’t… apologize,” she whimpered, arching her breasts up to tempt him. He gave in immediately, cursing wildly under his breath before engulfing one whole in his mouth. ”So good, Rum, just keep it up.”

“Keeping things up… won’t be a problem.”

Belle laughed, but the sound turned into a sharp yelp halfway through - something about the angle, the suddenly hard press of his abdomen on her mound, the slap of his balls on her arse, had her near-blind in erotic ecstasy.

He slid deep into her, then lunged forward on his knees to go further. “I’m sorry!” he shouted. “Oh, fuck, sorry!”

She tried to fight for the words to tell him to stop worrying, but a burst of wet heat in her womb shut her up. She moaned, neck arched back as he filled her to the brim, leaking onto her arse as he shot off again, and again, and again.

“Ohhhhhh…” she moaned low, pulling him in as he hitched her leg over his hip, rutting in ever faster in his desire to spill everything he had. No man had ever done this before – no man had ever filled her so much with his cum that it felt like it had seeped into her soul.

He collapsed against her, boneless, and that final nudge of his softened cock against her lips had her gripping him tight and mewling with release. He lapped at her neck like a devoted kitten, cupping her ears with shaking palms to ease her through it. He looked so concerned that he’d broken her, and Belle couldn’t force her voice to explain that breaking like this was a good thing.

“Belle, look here,” he begged softly. The sound of his voice had her cumming again, a tiny shimmer of slick joy on her muscles that nonetheless made her scream. She fought through it to look at his eyes like he’d asked, blissfully falling into their depths like drowning. 

With a final buck of her hips, she tumbled into the pillow, taking him with her so that her eyes wouldn’t have to leave his.

“I-i-is your leg alright?” she stammered, plucking his bottom lip between hers. 

He nodded, a quick, shallow nuzzle against her cheek. “Not a problem. What about you, Belle? You looked like you were in pain.”

“Not… not pain at all. That was lovely, Rum,” she panted, brushing his hair from his face. “In fact, you can kiss me, if you want. A performance like that deserves a reward.”

“You were quite the reward on your own,” he huffed. Nevertheless, he attacked her mouth with rabid lips, hard and hot and wet and oh but she nearly came again when he licked the roof of her mouth. If he could manage, she wouldn’t mind another round. 

“Your wife is lucky to have a man like you,” she laughed, bucking her hips up again.

She realized her mistake as soon as she’d made it. Where before Rum had been warm and pliant in her arms, nuzzling happily against her and mouthing sweetly around her face, he was now ice cold and still. 

“I… well, thank you.” He disentangled himself, slipping out of her body so quickly that she felt his seed stick to her lips. What might have been erotic before was heartbreaking now. “For saying that my wife is lucky, I mean.”

“She is,” Belle answered simply. “You’re kind, gentle, considerate. Handsome.” He flushed at her praise, causing her thighs to leak with their pleasure – his blush went all the way down his ass. When he pulled his burlap trousers over those wonderful mounds, she dropped her eyes and shook her head to clear it. “And you’re a quick student – if you do anything that isn’t to her liking, which I sincerely doubt will happen by the way, you’ll be able to learn something new without any trouble.”

“I hope I see–” Belle cut herself off. Rule number two under “no suspicions” - no attachments to the clients. Especially not when they were married fathers. “I hope you have a safe journey home.”

She dared to believe he looked stricken by her comment, as if her words were a barb instead of a relief. “I… I’ll try, my lady.”

Belle sighed – they were back to “my lady” so soon.

He stood awkwardly before her, hands twitching over the cane as he adjusted his baggy shirt. “Was… was there anything else you wanted of me?” he asked slowly. It almost sounded like a plea… Belle chastised herself. No, no it didn’t – she was imagining things, thinking only about what she wanted and ignoring everything about him.

She turned away, curling into her side and hoping it looked like she was merely sleepy instead of half-way crying. “No, Rum. That was all.” 

For half a second, barely a discernible moment, she felt him hesitate in the room behind her. She imagined him raising his hands, leaning forward as if to touch her. She imagined that he wanted her back just as much as she did him. 

But then her door slipped quietly back into its lock, and the staccato tap of his rod receded down the hall. She waited hopefully, but he never came back. He was gone.

Belle dried her tears in the pillowcase, sobbing silently from the pain and her own idiocy. 

She was no longer a foolish little girl. This wasn’t her first time – this was one of hundreds. It shouldn’t mean anything to her anymore. It was a physical desire which she was too intelligent to deny herself. She shouldn’t feel so hurt. Rum wasn’t her first lover.

But she was his. 

Belle wiped her wicked tears away. He wasn’t her first virgin, either. It shouldn’t be so hard to let him go away. But it was – much as she tried to rationalize it, to try and brush it away, she couldn’t escape the fact that his leaving her hurt.

She wasn’t a slut, nor an addle-minded teenage girl – she knew that love didn’t happen after a single night of sex. Especially not when the partners knew nothing about one another. So why did it feel like it had happened to her? 

She cursed herself even as she gave in, winding her sheets around her breasts to save her modesty. The streets below were dark, but Rum was a beacon in the midst, hobbling and lowly and beautiful. He would return to her. Of course he’d return to her. His wife might not be satisfied with him after all, and he’d need another lesson. Or maybe she would be, but she’d like to thank Belle personally by inviting them into her and Rum’s marriage bed. None of that mattered – all she wanted was to hold his head to her heart once more and -

Belle stopped herself. No - their relationship was done. Rum was a married man. A married man clearly head over heels in love with his wife. She was just a whore he’d paid to teach him the finer aspects of things. 

For the first time in years, Belle blew out the candle in her window before midnight. She wouldn’t be taking any more lovers tonight. She might not take any more ever.

How could she, when the only man she wanted to love would never be coming back?


	2. Chapter 2

Safe Words - Part 2  
Rating: NC-17

Author’s Note: Here it is, guys! Finally! Don’t know when I’ll get around to posting the Extracurricular smut, but I’m sure this will hold you over till then ;) Hope you enjoy!

 

In merely six months, the top room at the local inn had changed beyond recognition. No longer was the wardrobe filled with flimsy lingerie and nightgowns, nor were the tables decked with lotions and massage oils. The candle at the window no longer filled the room with red light, but, instead, a dim yellow glow.

But Lady Belle still rented it every night from seven to midnight, and she still reclined on the large bed with her immense piles of books beside her

It had been a hard year. Belle would be the first to admit that. The treasury was running low, disease was running high, and the Duke of the Frontlands in the neighboring kingdom had once again lowered the recruiting age. It was sickening – sixteen-year-old children sent out for the slaughter. Not for the first time, she wondered how old Rumplestiltskin’s son was.

Belle groaned at herself and buried her nose deeper into her book. She shouldn’t keep torturing herself with thoughts of Rum – Rumplestiltskin, rather. That would probably be more appropriate now that he wasn’t her client. And that’s all he was to begin with – a one night stand, a non-paying customer. He shouldn’t still affect her like this.

By that logic, though, she shouldn’t still be going to her room at the inn every night when she’d stopped taking on customers two months ago, either.

Knock, knock!

Belle jumped, causing her book to slide off her lap and hit the floor. No one ever visited her anymore, not sense she’d spread word around town that the room upstairs was no longer open for business. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. What if it wasn’t a customer at all? What if her father had finally discovered that she’d been sneaking out? Worse still, what if someone had told him what she’d been sneaking out to do? 

“Who is it?” she finally called, trying to keep her voice low so as to disguise it.

“Innkeeper!”

Relief left her with a large sigh. “Give me a moment, please.”

The matronly old woman huffed at the other side of the door. Belle smiled – if she was had time to be irritated with Belle, than it couldn’t be anything that awful.

Belle picked up her book and laid it on the bed before opening the door. “Yes, ma’am? Is there a problem?”

The innkeeper shook her head, sending her flaxen curls all over the place. Inwardly, Belle smirked – the special hair potion she’d given the woman as payment seemed to have worked. 

“No, just a curiosity. You said you weren’t taking any more men, didn’t you?”

Belle nodded. “Not for a couple of months now. Why do you ask?”

“Cause there’s a fellow at my desk what seems desperate to visit you tonight. You sure there couldn’t have been a misunderstanding?”

She nodded again, then cocked her head to the side. The innkeeper could handle herself just fine, so she wasn’t worried about being attacked by a randy ex-client. She was, however, just as curious as the other woman seemed to be.

“Thought not,” the woman groused. “Well, I’ll just tell him to look for company elsewhere. Sorry for the trouble –”

“What does he look like?” Belle interrupted. Much as she’d been trained to be polite in the court, she’d never learned to suppress her thirst for knowledge.

The innkeeper snorted. “Oh, he’s a right scrawny fellow, miss. I won’t have any problem getting rid of him.”

“No, no, it isn’t that. I just wanted to see if I could remember him.”

The older woman leaned back against the opposite wall. “Well, let’s see. He’s about yea tall,” she held out her hand just a few inches higher than the top of Belle’s head, “pretty damn grimy, longish hair, sharp nose. Thin thing, too. He’s as thin as his walking stick.”

“W-walking stick?” Belle stammered. She’d had many a man come to visit her while she was working, but only one of them used it walking stick. It couldn’t be…

“Aye. And, now that I think about it, he had something of a Frontlands accent. Poor bastard.”

Belle’s breath caught. There was no denying it anymore. A cane was one thing, but the accent? Only one man she’d ever met fit that description.

Her Rum had returned.

“Send him up,” she choked.

The innkeeper startled. “Send him –? But you just said –”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, ma’am, I just… please send him up? Please?”

She looked at Belle shiftily, obviously shocked, then threw her hands in the air and turned away. 

“Fine, fine,” she grumbled. “But I expect some more of that hair stuff as payment! Can’t be running myself ragged on your errands, girl, Lord’s daughter or not.”

Belle barely heard a word she’d said. Her Rum was here, asking for her. She felt like her heart could sing. 

She raced back into her room, scrounging into her drawers for some scrap of lace that she could change into. Tonight had to be perfect, and wearing the right things for him to peel off of her was as good a place to start as any. 

The first drawer was empty, as was the second, and Belle began to worry. She’d never been vain – one of the few things she prided herself on, in fact – but Rum brought out a desire in her to look her best. She couldn’t disappoint him. Not if it meant she’d lose a chance to hear him say she was beautiful. 

She tore open the bottom cabinet, and sighed in relief at the sight of a pale lace thong. It wasn’t much (figuratively and literally), but it would have to do. 

Belle ripped the nightgown from her body, not caring where it flew off as she set about untying her corset. She damned herself for making the laces so tight, but then, she hadn’t thought she’d be getting a visitor tonight. 

Finally, when everything was off, she picked up the scrap of lace and turned around, wanting to be the first thing Rum saw when he came into the room.

Belle got her wish. But, as it was, she was stark naked when he saw her instead of decked out in an unlaced corset and white thong. 

“Belle,” he murmured, his voice just as thick and rich as she remembered. Everything was just as she remembered – his dark, grey-speckled hair, his thin, powerful lips, his weathered hands that would feel so good inside her…

Wetness filled up her lips, likely dripped a bit onto her thighs. She couldn’t contain herself. 

“Rum,” she sighed, holding out her arms to embrace him. “You’re –” 

He cut her off with a low growl, and the next thing she knew, his mouth was pressed tightly to hers, lips working furiously and tongue dipping between the same.

“Tell me to leave,” he moaned, pressing one large hand against her breast until it was cradled lovingly against his fingers. “Tell me to go. Kick me, throw me out. Just don’t have me arrested, please.”

Belle wrenched her mouth from under his, legs wobbling with the power of his kisses. “What? Why would I do that? You’re acting strange, Rum, I –”

“You don’t want me to leave?” he asked deeply, curling his thumb around her nipple. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure. 

“No, but I do want you tell me –”

He interrupted again, this time slipping his tongue all the way into her open mouth and stroking it behind her teeth.

“I’m so sorry for this, Belle,” he whimpered, gently guiding her to the bed. His leg buckled once on the way there, but it was timed perfectly so that he landed right on top of her. “You deserve so much better than this. I’m so sorry.”

Belle moved her lips from his to suck on his earlobe, remembering how much he’d liked it the last time. She was amazed that she could remember anything at all with the way he was bucking into her thigh. 

“What are you sorry for? I’ve been dreaming about this for months.”

Rum pulled away, and Belle felt a shiver run down her spine, a mixture of lust and concern overtaking her. How had she not noticed the broken look in his eyes? How had she not noticed the added lines on his face, the worried set of his brow? Something was wrong.

But she’d be damned if she’d let him stop touching her yet. 

“Don’t lie,” he begged, even as he shucked off his pants and tunic. “Please, Belle, I don’t want to hear any more lies.”

Belle caressed his cheeks between her palms, kissing him slowly and gently on the lips before muttering, “It isn’t a lie.”

He hissed when the wetness from her womb touched his tip. He looked absolutely wrecked. Whether it was from her body or his pain, though, she didn’t know. 

“I… I can’t do slow tonight,” he apologized, scooting her flush against the headboard and spreading wide her thighs. Belle moaned. “I’m so, so sorry, Belle. Just tell me to stop and I will. I don’t want to be a monster. I don’t want to hurt you. Fuck, I’m such a –”

“Stop that,” she commanded, massaging his arse with her heels. “You’re perfect, Rum. Absolutely, entirely –”

He entered her with one stiff stroke, embedding himself almost all the way into her body. She hissed with pleasure, head falling back to crack against the headboard. It felt wondrous, amazing, his naked flesh pressed entirely into hers. It felt like home. It felt like being in love.

But then, she’d been in denial for half a year, hadn’t she? It only took one night with the man overtop of her, panting and squinting at the desire he felt inside of her and the harsh angle of his leg, to fall in love with him.

“You’re so lovely,” he whimpered, drawing out only to plunge back in again. This time, his head fell back, too. “Why do you put up with this? You should have so much better than me.”

“Don’t say that,” she moaned, pressing her hips up so that he slid in even deeper. That seemed to be enough to crack him, for the next thing she knew, he was thrusting her hard into the mattress and the wood at her back. “Feel so good, Rum. So thick. Just like I remember.”

“Fuck!” he shouted into her ear, even as he lifted her knees so that the rested below his ribs. This wasn’t an angle she’d ever tried before, but it hit her clit with every one of his strokes and filled her in a way she never imagined possible. How had he ever thought he’d be a bad lover?

“Say it,” he hissed, pounding mercilessly into her. “Please, Belle.”

It took every ounce of her willpower, but she managed to push herself up, just high enough to whisper, “You’re doing so well,” into his ear.

He shook, pressed into her so tight that she could swear one of his balls breached her slit, but that didn’t seem to be enough for him.

“No, Belle. No lies. Just say my name.”

She wanted to ask him why, ask why he thought she was lying, but the way he was slamming into her, the sound of his balls thwacking against her core echoing in her ears, she could do nothing but comply.

“Rum,” she moaned, moving his hand so it stroked her breast once more. She felt a tightening in her stomach, similar to the one in his thighs, and she felt like flying. This would be the hardest and quickest she’d ever cum, she could feel it. 

He shook his head no, burying his face in her shoulder as he kneaded her breast pumped faster. “No, Belle, my whole name. Please.”

She turned her head to say it, to whisper it lovingly into his ear, but a sudden wetness on her neck made her stop. She’d taken the instant shivering of his shoulders as a sign of pleasure, not sadness. And yet, he was crying. 

“Rumplestiltskin?” she asked, knowing that her voice sounded half distraught and have overcome with erotic wonder. It was a horrid combination, especially if he was hurt, but she couldn’t control her emotions.

Just as she, as well as Rum, couldn’t control the reactions of their bodies.

He exploded inside her, filling her to the brim with strands of heat and stickiness. It was enough to have her spasming around him, milking him dry as she maneuvered her hand to flick at her clit. She felt full, whole, and entirely happy.

Until she saw his face.

She felt the tears, knew how hard he was crying, but nothing could prepare her for the agony in his eyes. What she’d once described as milk chocolate seemed little more than burnt-out charcoal now. Everything about him seemed lost. Even in her body, wrapped around a woman who only wanted his love, he seemed lonely.

He let go of her immediately, and she looked up to see his eyes filled with tears.

“I’m so, so sorry. I just wanted someone to say my name… and not hate me.” 

Something about those words made her heart rend itself in two. She wanted to reach for him, comfort and love him until he forgot about all his pain. But he’d already rolled away from her, sliding wetly from her body and covering himself with shame. 

His shoulders shook as he clumsily buried his face in his hands. “What have I done? Belle, what have I done?”

Belle pushed herself up, ignoring her spasming muscles and panting breath. Her heartbreak far outweighed her pleasure. Something had broken her Rum – something had changed him in ways she couldn’t begin to understand.

“What are you talking about, Rum? What happened?” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, taking comfort in the way he shivered for her. “Is it Bae? I heard about the change in the recruitment age.”

He shook his head no, but he didn’t lift it from his hands.

“He’s alive.” Belle closed her eyes in relief, but blinked them open again when Rum snorted derisively into his palms. “He’s alive, and all he’s got is me. Me. I didn’t even – even have enough money to rent a room for him. I had to put him in a boy’s home for the night.”

His voice choked on the last syllable, and Belle held him even tighter, forcing her arousal aside when he buried his face in her breasts instead of his hands. 

“My son has to be treated like an orphan for the night because his fucking sorry excuse for a father can’t pay for him. He deserves so much more than that. So much more –”

“Where’s his mother?” Belle interrupted, angrier than she was willing to admit.

She expected him deride himself, to cuss at himself for being the poorest excuse of a husband that ever lived or some other such nonsense. She was prepared to hate his wife even more if that were the case. What kind of mother abandoned her husband and child like this? 

But Rum didn’t say anything. He sat huddled against her breasts, shaking with terror and self-hatred and more tears than Belle had ever felt from anyone, much less a man. She was right to think he was broken. 

“Rum, what happened?” she asked again, beginning to dread the answer. “Where’s your wife?”

He pulled her in so tightly that she almost couldn’t breathe. His body was otherwise still, though, even as his voice choked with sorrow.

“She’s gone. They killed her, Belle. I could have saved her, I could have fought for her. But I didn’t. I’m such a fucking coward, Belle. And now she’s gone. ”

Belle brought him close to her chest, her own tears falling into his hair as she stroked it. 

She’d dreamt about holding him in her arms, of petting him and playing with him and loving him all through the night. She dreamt that he’d admit to loving her, too.

Without a doubt, that was the most foolish, selfish dream she’d ever had. For here sat a shattered man, the best man she’d ever met, whose heart belonged only to his poor son and dead wife… and she had the nerve to mourn her own broken heart. 

Rum thought he was despicable. But what did that make her?

“It’s okay, Rum,” she promised, kissing his forehead and his temples as he sobbed into her breasts. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”

I love you…


	3. Chapter 3

Safe Words - Part 3  
Rating: NC-17 (soooooo NC-17…)

Author’s Note: So, so sorry for taking so long to put this up, lovelies. What with work, and all the power outages, and then me getting sick this week, I just didn’t have time to post. Still, I’m really, really sorry about holding you up :( 

Anyway, be sure to thank Ru for this - if not for her, it might’ve been months before you got to see hooker!Belle again. Although, after reading this, you might decide that’s a good thing - I have no shame in admitting that this chapter made even me cry. Oh, and bonus points to whoever gets the reference I made in the doctor’s name. On you go…

 

From overhead, the town looked dark and dismal. There were no sounds, no noises of people milling about in the streets. No children skipped down the lanes, no couples held hands by the town square. Everyone, it seemed, was preparing to send the princess off. In less than a month, she would no longer call this place home. In half a year, her last name would no longer be her father’s.

No candles lit up the darkness in the top room at the inn. Not anymore. 

Belle turned away from her desk and the long roll of parchment on it to look out her tower window. King George was a fine man, from what she’d heard, if a bit reclusive and austere. His first wife had been treated like a queen ought to be, and, though she’d borne him no children, he’d seemed to genuinely love her. That wasn’t something that many royal women could attest to, of that Belle was certain. But grateful as she was for all of that, she still couldn’t bring herself to be happy. She hadn’t really been happy for some time now. 

Stars twinkled overhead, and Belle found herself praying for one to fall so she could make a wish. A year. It had been a whole year since she’d seen her precious spinner man. She didn’t know if he’d been forced to move, avoiding the draft for his son and the sadness of losing his wife. Or, worse, if he’d remarried. 

And it was the not knowing, worse than anything, that killed her. 

If she could only get ahold of him, tell him that she was about to be married but that she’d always love him and be there for him, it would be fine. She’d known since he cried in her arms over his wife’s death that he would never love her back, but, selfish as it was, she needed him to know the truth. At the very least, he might see it as an advantage and move into King George’s domain so she could take care of him and his boy. It would be enough.

The first tears of the night dripped down her cheeks. She was lying to herself and she knew it. It would never be enough. 

Every night since he’d left her, every single night, she’d cried herself to sleep with the memory of how quickly Rumplestiltskin had left her once he’d stopped crying in her bed. Of how ashamed and small and lost he looked when he hobbled outside, not bothering to listen to her words of comfort or her promises that he could always call on her if he needed someone. She wanted him to come back to bed so she could heal them both, to love him and care for him the only way she knew how. She’d welcome his son with open arms, knowing already that she’d love him just because he belonged to Rumplestiltskin. She’d tried, twice, after that to tell him she loved him, but, both times, the words caught in her throat. She’d been stuck at the inn door, watching him all but run away from her, with her open mouth full of vows she couldn’t keep and tears she couldn’t hold back. 

And, now, it was too late. 

If she still spent her nights at the inn, there might’ve been some hope, but King George’s guards – ordered to their palace in order to keep a close eye on their lord’s new bride – had put a stop to that. Her father’s soldiers were old and drunk and too concerned with doting on her like a child rather than seeing her as a woman to notice what she did with herself at nighttime. George’s were hardened and constantly alert. She’d found out the hard way that there would be no getting past them, and she was too afraid of their loyalty to test it on the temptation of her body. 

Her Rumplestiltskin was lost to her. And, in little over three weeks, she’d lose all hope of ever seeing him again.

Knock knock.

Belle wiped away her tears, knowing that her maids would neither understand nor condone her crying. She was engaged to the most powerful king in all the realms, they’d say. What did she have to cry about?

“Come –” She stopped herself, coughing thickly to get past the tears caught in her throat. “Come in!”

The door slammed open, bouncing loudly into the stones behind it. Belle jumped, eyes wide as she saw the muddy man trip onto her floor – it wasn’t a maid at all. Her gaze darted about, looking for a place to run and call for help.

“Stay back!” she called, diving for one of her long hair-pins on the dresser. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it would do. “You’ll only get one warning from me!” 

He pulled himself up on his knees, gripping the doorframe to keep him steady. He was harried and terrified, she could tell that even without seeing his face, and she wondered for a moment if he’d actually scaled the castle walls to get in. He was certainly favoring his right foot, for whatever reason, and there was no other way she could think of to get by King George’s guards unnoticed. Perhaps he’d hurt it on the way up. She looked closer, hoping to find the weak spot in his tendons… and immediately stopped short. It wasn’t just his foot that was swollen, it was his ankle – scarred and gashed and broken beyond repair. An old wound. A familiar wound. 

The man lifted his face, and Belle couldn’t hold back her foolish gasp. Even emaciated and soaked in filth, his eyes, chocolate brown and so relieved to see her, shone through. She knew who it was, even before he opened his mouth and panted,

“Belle, it’s me.”

It was Rumplestiltskin.

“Rum!” she hissed too anxious to cover up her voice. He was back. He’d come back for her. He –

“It’s Bae,” he interrupted, panting. “He’s sick. I – I don’t know what to do.”

Belle froze, all thought of her excitement scattered. 

“How sick is he?”

Rumple agitated from foot to foot, obviously trying not to clutch his swollen one in pain. “Bad. Very, very bad. He has a fever so hot it burnt my hand, and he’s been cough… coughing up blood,” his voice broke, “since we came to market on Tuesday. He won’t eat, he won’t drink. Belle, I… he needs you. I wouldn’t have come if he didn’t. I know that you have better contacts than I could ever hope to, and you’re so wise yourself. Please, I… I’ve lost so much, he’s lost so much, already. I ca- I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright,” she interrupted, taking him mud and all into her arms. She could tell by the way he leaned into her that the weight of Bae, of his foot, was enough to make him collapse, but she could see just as clearly that he’d refuse to lie down when his son was ill. Her heart bled for him, and she pushed back his hair before standing to her feet. 

Belle nodded, didn’t even hesitate to, and she waited till Rumple had sighed his relief and thanks before she went to the wardrobe for her cloak. It was good to look away from him – he couldn’t see her heart break if he wasn’t looking. 

She’d been wrong to think he wanted her. If he had, he would’ve come to her much earlier than now. He’d even been in town for two days. But he’d said so himself – he never would’ve called on her if not for his son.

His son who seemed to be dying. 

Belle took a deep breath and fastened the shawl about her shoulders. She could deal with herself later, she thought, forcing her mind to think practically and methodically. Coughing up blood was never a good sign, especially not in a boy so young, and if he had a fever as bad as Rum said he had, too, there wasn’t much that could be done. At least, not by non-magical folk or untrained physicians. 

And Belle didn’t have any magic, but she did have access to the best physician in the Enchanted Forest.

Belle went to her desk and scribbled a quick note on a spare piece of parchment, ignoring Rum’s hassled confusion as she rolled it up with twine and pressed her seal to it. Unfortunately, the palace doctor wouldn’t believe it was actually from her otherwise, and Belle wasn’t about to take any risks. 

“Stay right here,” she asked Rum softly, pausing till he’d hidden himself behind her door to go out and ring her bell. A short, aproned woman appeared almost immediately. 

“Yes, Lady Belle?” she asked reverently. 

Belle faked a cough and pretended to be faint.

“I’m not feeling that well. Might you take this to the physician?”

The maid curtsied. “Certainly, Your Ladyship.” 

“Good. And,” she coughed again, “might you tell the guards I’ll be in the gardens? Last time I fell ill, the doctor said it would be best if I got some fresh air.”

Guilt bubbled up in her throat at the worry on her maid’s face, but it was too late to stop now. ”Of course, miss. I hope it’s not anything terrible - you’ll be going away in a month, you know, and that would just be dreadful.”

Her smile was even faker than her cough, but, thankfully, the maid seemed to buy it. “Well, thank you, miss. You’d best go ahead and deliver this - I wouldn’t want to make you sick as well.” 

The woman’s eyes went wide with worry, and she hid her mouth behind her hand as she murmured, “Yes, Your Ladyship.”

Belle watched the maid’s retreating back, waited until the woman’s footsteps had receded past the final stone hallway, then exhaled and turned to Rum behind the door. Hopefully, the maid’s warning would keep the guards focused on the garden below (which would be easy enough to sneak back into from the street), leaving her an easy enough escape through the cellar servant’s entrance.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised. 

Rumple’s eyebrows arched under his muddy fringe of hair. “What?”

She stuffed her feet into the shoes by Rum’s feet, thankful that the heels were low enough for her to run in. “You’ll be safe here. The message said for the doctor to pretend he’s coming here and then meet me at the inn. All of the guards will be waiting for me downstairs, so they won’t come in.”

He shook his head and gripped the stone wall, using it to heft himself up. “Not what I meant. I’m coming, too.”

“No, you’re staying,” she hissed. She instantly regretted lashing out at him – he didn’t know that he’d destroyed her dreams, nor that having him stay was just as much for her protection as it was for his. “I won’t have you walking on a bad foot. Bae’s sick, the last thing we need is for you to be in pain.”

He looked vaguely terrified at her reproach, but waved his hand and grappled to his feet, hobbling to her side as quickly as he could. His hips swayed as he tried to keep his balance, and Belle forced herself to think about his son lest she think of her Rumple’s hips doing other things. 

“I just scraped it a little on one of the windows.” She allowed herself a moment of pride for figuring that out from the start. “Please… my boy needs me.”

Belle hesitated. If she were sick, if she were dying… well, she honestly didn’t know whether she’d want her father at her side or not. He was so demeaning of her and her independence, and they hadn’t actually sat down and talked since she was little. But she would want Rum there. She’d only met him twice, and only for a scant handful of hours each time, but that was long enough for her to fall in love with him and understand the sweet man no else seemed to see. 

If she were his, and she were sick, she’d want him right there at her side.

She wrung her hands to keep from reaching for him, and, slowly, nodded her head. “Alright. I… I understand. Just promise that, if your foot hurts, you’ll tell me so we can stop.”

She knew he wouldn’t, but it relieved her to see him nod all the same. 

Belle snuck back into the hall, holding out a hand to keep him in place as she checked the coast. It was still and empty, and she closed her eyes in relief – this might work after all.

She took his hand in hers, and pretended that neither of them were shaking. 

“Come on.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Brow set, he gripped her fingers tighter and all but sprinted down the hall, moving so quickly that she had to push herself to keep up. An injured man with a cane he might be, but the fact that he was a father of an ill boy obviously meant more. A hollow ache took over her heart, mocking her with the knowledge that he’d never feel so strongly for her, but she pushed it away lest she be too distracted to see any stray guards.

Rumple obviously didn’t have the same concern. Between his cane and his labored breathing, Belle was surprised that they hadn’t been swarmed. In her paranoia, she even thought she saw a suit of armor stalking behind them, but the hall was empty when she turned around. 

But for once in the long year she’d spent trying unsuccessfully to sneak out of the castle, luck was finally on her side – no one stopped them on the usually busy second floor, nor the deserted servants’ corridor, nor the courtyard outside. Belle breathed deep when they were finally out, wishing it was under better circumstances but determined to enjoy her freedom while it lasted all the same – she’d likely not be able to do this ever again. She’d likely never see Rumplestiltskin ever again. 

Her fingers dug into his palm, yanking him down an alley that she knew would be a shorter route to her inn than the one he was taking. He allowed her to take the lead, and though Belle was thankful that he trusted her that much, she didn’t like the way he was huffing and stumbling. She turned around, ready to ask him if he was hurt, but skidded to a stop instead. The bottom of his pant leg was soaked in blood.

“Rumple, stop, stop!” 

He groaned, but kept trying to move all the same. “ ‘s fine. I can make it.”

“No, we’re stopping.” He opened his mouth, but Belle cut him off again. “We’re just a few streets away from your son, and we have to wait for the doctor anyway. You can spare a minute for me to look you over.”

His eyes wandered down the street, his feet still shuffling like he wanted to keep moving, but she gripped his shoulders, turned his face towards her, and waited for him to sigh and fall to his shanks. 

“Just a second,” he begged, nevertheless unfolding his foot for her to see. 

Belle blinked up at him. He was just as lonely, just as sincere as ever she remembered him. “You… you did?”

His cheeks were red under the grime, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. Her pulse beat thickly. 

“I – of course,” he stammered. “I… always want to see you. I think about you all the time. I shouldn’t, I know, but…”

He shook his head, and, leaning heavily on his cane, hefted himself from the ground. Belle didn’t realize until she was eye-level with his knee that she’d let go of his ankle. Her mind was spinning, even though it was almost blissfully blank, and her hands were shaking. That he could do this to her with so few words didn’t matter, especially if it meant she could do the same to him.

On trembling legs, she rose to her feet, too. He was already headed towards the inn again, slowly this time so she wouldn’t make him stop again, but it was no easier to catch up with him now than it had been when he was running. 

“What were you going to say?” she asked timidly.

His gaze, so intense a moment ago, had fallen grimly to his feet. “It was nothing.”

Her hand jumped out to touch his shoulder. She didn’t remember telling her arm to move, and her shock was just as great as his when he turned to face her. But Rum’s whole arm shivering under her hand, and she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. She took a deep breath – she wasn’t brave, but maybe her actions could make her so. 

“You can tell me. Rum, I think about you all the time, too.”

He fumbled on the stones. 

“You do?” His voice was so quiet, so disbelieving, that she couldn’t stand it. This time, she fully meant it when she reached for his hand again and brushed his palm. There were more lines on it than she remembered. She had every intention of kissing them all away… if he let her. 

Belle nodded. “Ever since the first night. I… I stopped, actually. Hooking, I mean. After you left, I couldn’t do it.” 

They still moved, still fighting to get to his son, but they could’ve been standing completely still. Apart from the threat on Bae’s life, they were the only things that existed. His eyes bore into hers, and, tentatively, he lifted his thumb to caress her fingers. He looked scared, and not just about the events of the night – he looked exactly how she’d felt in the year that he’d been gone. 

“Belle, I –”

“Lady Belle.”

They jumped apart in an instant, releasing each other’s hands and spinning to face their intruder. Belle tried her hardest to ignore the terrified look on Rumple’s face at being caught, no doubt thinking he was going to be hung for touching her, and focused instead on the man who’d interrupted them. Though she didn’t appreciate having her time with Rumple cut short, she was relieved – it was just the physician.

“Doctor Zephyr,” she exhaled, curtsying to regain her composure. 

The ebony-skinned man bowed, his emerald eyes resting fixedly all the while on Rum. “And who might your companion be, My Lady?” he asked suspiciously. 

Belle reached for Rumple’s hand again, hoping the action looked comforting and nothing more. Doctor Zephyr was a good man, if not a kind one, but he had a sharp, deciphering glare that never failed to put her on edge. Otherwise, she might’ve tried escaping by faking sick before now.

“This is the father of the boy I sent the note for,” she answered, pleading with herself to sound calm. “He sent me a message via one of me maids.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Why the urgency in contacting you? And, better yet, why the urgency in contacting me?”

Belle forced herself to hold his unwavering gaze, though she didn’t know whether looking straight at him or glancing away would really reveal her. 

“I – the missive. The man said he was afraid that has son had caught the plague,” she improvised quickly. “He thought it would be best if father and I knew so we could head it off before it spread. I would’ve had him bring his boy to the palace, but I didn’t want the servants to gossip – if it’s just a fever, I don’t want there to be mass panic with people thinking it actually is a plague.” 

The doctor still stared at her, eyes unblinking and eyebrows set. Rum shivered at her side, his own eyes darting quickly in the direction of the inn, of his son, like a cornered beast. Belle rubbed her thumb over his, not daring to do more with the doctor watching. Her breath hitched when he caressed her in turn.

“I see,” Doctor Zephyr finally intoned. “Very wise of you, My Lady. Well, no time to lose, then. Which way is the patient?”

Belle let go of a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Beside her, though, Rumple was already a step ahead, stumbling down the road with care not to step with his aching foot. Doctor Zephyr gestured for Belle to go ahead, and while she didn’t relish the idea of him staring at the back of her head, she couldn’t come up with an excuse that he would accept. 

They rounded both corners to the inn quickly, hidden in the shadows cast by the buildings overhead and muffling their footsteps in the dirt. The innkeeper was waiting for them at the back when finally they arrived, pacing restlessly at the doorstep. She gasped when she saw them, and Belle felt it like a chill breeze on her skin. It was obvious by the way Rumple rushed forward, knees shaking, that he’d felt it, too.

“Thank the gods you’re here,” the woman cried, gripping Belle’s arm tightly and much too familiarly. Somewhere, Belle knew that the physician had turned his piercing glare on her again, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care or notice. She’d never seen the innkeeper cry before, and there were tear tracks all over the old woman’s face. Something had gone horribly wrong. 

All four of them marched into the high-ceilinged pub, following the owner as she yanked them towards the back. A hollow, guttural cough filled the back hall, much too deep and raspy for such a young boy, and Belle’s heart clenched as she raced for the door behind Rumplestiltskin. If he was still coughing, that meant his son was still alive. But they both knew that that was all it meant. 

“He’s been like that since you left,” the innkeeper whispered. “Delirious, too. He doesn’t even know where he is.”

Rumple made a low noise in the back of his throat, and all but threw down his cane in his haste to reach his son’s side. Belle rounded the corner with him, thoughtlessly in unison with his actions. At least, until a solemn cry tumbled out of his lips that made her wish she’d stayed in the hall. 

There was a lump in the great bed in the center of the room. It was covered in sheets and comforters, all piled high above the barely moving figure. Bae’s face, swollen and dribbling blood at the corners, peaked out from beneath the jumble. He wheezed, the noise so much more than any child should have to bear, and a stream of reddish tears washed down his face. Belle shook – he was so small. 

“Bae.” Rumple’s voice was little more than a wet rasp, and his whole body swayed before he hit the floor on his knees. Everything about him made it clear that he was terrified. But his face, though cracking, remained still, trying to look calm for his son. She didn’t think she’d ever seen someone so brave. 

“I’m here, son, I’m here,” he promised. He pressed his lips to his boy’s cheek, wed the gunk away with his ratty sleeve. It was the best he could do, all he could do, and it was killing him.

Belle stepped forward without thinking about it, rounding to the other side of the bed and finding Bae’s hand below the covers. It was wet and clammy to the touch. 

“Papa,” Bae coughed, hacking up another stream of bloody saliva. “When are we getting to the market?” 

Rum’s lips wobbled, and he held it taut between his teeth when he answered, “Soon, son. We’re just… just taking a short break.”

Bae nodded, somehow pleased with the false answer, and wriggled towards his father. Rum shut his eyes tight against the tears and cradled his boy close, rocking him as best he could with his knees on the floor and Bae wrapped in a cocoon.

“Love you, Papa.”

“I lo – I love you, too, son,” he croaked. 

The boy turned, leaving his father to the side as he shifted towards Belle. She felt a pressure in her palm, and realized too late that he was trying to hold her hand. 

“Mama.”

Belle squeezed him tighter, paying no head to the tears on her own face.

“Mama,” he coughed again, trying and failing again to grip her hand. “Mama, I’m hot.” 

Her eyes snapped open – Bae was gazing at her as if she were an angel. Acid tainted her throat – he wasn’t asking for his dead mama. He thought his mama was Belle.

Belle choked and spun toward Rum, hoping for some clue as to what to do, but what she found made it even harder to hide her tears. Rum looked so lost, so afraid, and there were trails of salty water in the dirt all over his face. She wanted to hold him, to pull him in close and promise he’d be alright. But that would mean letting go of Bae’s hand, and she wasn’t going to do that for anything. 

She bit almost through her lip to stop from crying, and smoothed the small boy’s hair back from his forehead. Her breath hitched – Rum was right, he was burning.

“I’m here, baby,” she hummed, holding his hand tighter as she brushed his long hair. “Mama’s here.” 

In the corner, Rumple whimpered like a puppy who’d been kicked, and Belle closed her eyes too late to keep the water from running down her cheek. 

Bae nuzzled into her palm, and looked up with unseeing eyes. “Mama, why’d you leave us? I miss you.”

Belle closed her eyes, and did her best to keep the wet eyelashes from his skin as she kissed his cheek. “I- I’d never leave you, Bae,” she croaked. “Never. You’re my little boy, and I love you so much.”

Bae’s eyelids fluttered shut, but he smiled at her as if she were the sun.

“Love you, too, Mama.”

A cold hand pressed down on Belle’s shoulder, and though it killed her to look away from the boy who’d mistaken her for his mother, she raised up to face Doctor Zephyr behind her. She couldn’t remember him ever looking so grim. 

“Lady Belle,” he said softly, “I think it would be best if I saw to him alone.”

Her eyes flashed towards Rum, still sitting brokenly on the other side of the bed. She bit her lip. 

“What about his father?”

The doctor hummed gravely, bending down as close to her as propriety would allow. 

“No parent should have to see their child in so much pain. You and he have done all that you can do – now I need to do all that I can do. I’ve never seen an illness like this, and the boy’s father won’t like to see some of the tests I’ll have to perform on him.”

She looked again at Rumple, at his tired, lined face, and nodded. It had all but killed him to see his son coughing up blood – she couldn’t imagine what would happen when the doctor opened up his kit.

It hurt just as much as she thought it would to let go of Bae’s fingers, but she took Rumple’s arm in hers anyway and led him to his feet.

“Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s let Doctor Zephyr work.”

He jerked his head no. “I want to stay with Bae.”

Belle moaned, and pulled him a little harder. She was surprised that he actually moved, following her like a puppet. Like he’d given up.

“Please, Rum,” she begged. “He needs room. We can’t do anything for Bae in here.”

The words seemed to flow over him without touching, but at least he followed her, and at least he only looked back once. 

The innkeeper shut the door behind them once Rum was out, hiding the doctor – and the metal instruments and bottles he’d pulled out – from view. Her eyes landed on Belle, looking significantly between her and Rumple, before leaving under the pretense of making stew and a warm bath for Rumple in Belle’s old room. 

She could’ve said nothing, though, for all that Rumple had noticed. Without the help of his cane, and nothing to distract him from his almost-severed foot, he’d collapsed in a heap onto the floor. He’d looked horrified before. Now, he just looked empty. Indeed, if she couldn’t see his chest moving under the thin material of his tunic, she wouldn’t even know that he was breathing. 

Carefully, Belle sat herself down beside him and took a corner of his hem in her hands. It was the most she allowed herself to touch him. Though, now that they were alone with awkward silence, Belle wished she’d asked the doctor for something to mend Rum’s foot with. It would’ve given her something to do, something that made her feel like less of an intruder on such a painful night. 

No matter how delirious Bae became, she’d never really be his mama, and – now that she’d met him, for what she prayed wouldn’t be the last time – that realization cut her to the bone. She didn’t belong here – not with a man who was too good and too brave to deserve what the world had handed him. 

“Milah never really spent much time with him.”

Belle jumped, startled at the sound of Rum’s voice. It was blank, just as directionless as the rest of him, but at least he was talking to her. 

“What do you mean?” 

Rumple sighed. “My wife. She… she wasn’t really the mothering sort. She tried. I think she tried. But she just wasn’t meant for it.” He lowered his head from the door to his lap. “I wanted her to stay for him. I know that you’ll remember that, after… after the first night you let me… But I didn’t think he’d miss her that much. Stupid.”

Belle shifted, ready to console him with words of just how not stupid he was. How brave he was, for both members of his family, alive and dead. But then she saw him, with his shaking shoulders, his face buried in his hands, and she gave up on staying away from him. 

Her arms wrapped around her slight spinner, tightly as he’d cradled Bae in the bed, and the moment his head touched her breasts, the dam broke. Sobs wracked his whole body, rending him pale and shivering in her arms, and she kissed his dirty scalp and cooed to him as he let it all out. 

“He’s only nine,” he wept. “Just had his birthday a few days ago. He’s too young, Belle. He can’t… he can’t…”

Rumple took a great, heaving breath and buried himself deeper in her cloak. 

“If I lose him, I don’t know what I’ll do,” he sobbed. “He’s my boy, my son, and he’s all I’ve got. My life means nothing if he’s not in it. I’ll die.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, petting his neck, his shoulders, like she had those months ago when he was inside of her instead of just leaning on her. She bit her tongue for her uselessness – she only knew how to arouse, not to comfort, and that was a useless skill right now. She wanted to say, If I lose you, my life won’t mean anything. But she settled for murmuring, “Bae will be just fine” over and over again into his ears instead. 

She held him like that for hours, petting his hair as he cried into the front of her dress. Selfishly, so selfishly, she relished the moment he wound his strong arms around her waist for a better grip, and she punished herself by digging her sharp nails into her palms until they bled. Rum wouldn’t notice – he was too covered in his own blood as it was. She wanted to suggest that they go upstairs, that they try out the bath the innkeeper drew for him, together, until they’d scrubbed all their fears away. But, frightening as the revelation was, she was almost as worried about Bae as Rumple was, and not just for the latter’s sake. Like his father, the little boy had managed to convince her in love at first sight. So she kissed Rumple’s head instead, promising him things she couldn’t keep with her mouth and arms, and held him as tight as she dared. It would be the last time she ever got the chance – she intended to make it last.

But, finally, at half past midnight, Doctor Zephyr finally opened the door of the innkeeper’s bedroom and stepped out. His hands were stained red with blood and pink saliva, his eyes cold and somber as the snow. Belle’s heart stuttered, and she followed Rumple to her feet almost instantly. 

“Doctor,” she started hoarsely, knowing that Rum wouldn’t be able to do it himself, “how is he? Is… is he…?” 

The doctor shook his head, and wiped his hands on the front of his frock. “No. But only just – if I hadn’t come when I did, I don’t know what would’ve happened. For now, though, he’s perfectly fine.”

Belle choked on a sob, and rushed with open arms at the dark-skinned doctor. He let her hold him, let her brace herself on him for strength while Rumple did the same to the doorframe, before gently pushing her away. 

“He’ll need to stay in bed at least a week,” he addressed Rum. “He’s better, but not enough to be on his feet. And it would be best if you don’t disturb him for the rest of tonight especially – he’ll need his rest to start off the recovery.”

Rumple nodded, but made no other indication that he’d heard – at the moment, he looked entirely at a loss for words. But he looked at the man with such gratitude that both he and Belle knew he’d understood. He had his son back – that was all he cared about. 

Doctor Zephyr marched forward a few paces, then stopped and turned in confusion to stare at Belle. She couldn’t figure out why until he offered her his arm, elbow crooked for her to take.

“If you would, My Lady?”

Belle hesitated. She looked at Rumple, hanging in the doorway as he watched over his son. She couldn’t leave him – not like this. Not tonight. Bae was alive, but the scare had taken so much out of both of them. Love be damned – he needed someone, and a broken heart would be a small price to pay if she could heal him. 

“My apologies, doctor,” she said softly, trying not to draw Rum’s attention, “but I wanted to look over this family for a few more hours. I would like to arrange a room for them to stay in while B – the boy,” she winced at her slip, “recovers, and make sure they know to call on us if anything goes wrong.” 

He blinked at her, eyes piercing for a long minute, before he hummed and nodded at her.

“I’ll leave you to it, then, My Lady,” he rumbled. “I have no doubt that such wisdom and kindness will make you an excellent queen.”

Belle’s mouth parted in shock – she’d all but forgotten about her engagement to King George. 

“I… thank you, doctor,” she managed, hoping her pause wouldn’t make him more suspicious.

He hummed again, and turned his back to her. “I’ll tell the guards that I left you with one of my nurses, and that they’ll find you safe and sound in your room next morning. And I’ll be sure to write my daughter about tonight’s events – I know you keep correspondence, and that you’ll be too tired to write her yourself.”

Belle trembled as he walked out the door. She hadn’t thought that anyone knew about the letters she received from the city, and she recognized his insight as the warning it was. He might not know the details about her relationship with Rum, but he knew that there was something there – he’d revealed that by mentioning his only daughter, who’d also made it a habit to sleep with whomever she wanted for money. 

For now, though, he was gone, and while his threat still hung in the air, Belle couldn’t bring herself to be bothered about it. She had Rumple to take care of, and that far outweighed any other responsibility. 

She stepped closer to him, watching him as he watched the door he’d just closed so his son could sleep. He still looked tired, still worn, but the strength in him had been renewed, and it showed in every inch of his body. His back, tensed and taut before, had relaxed a bit to the thin musculature she remembered. 

It hadn’t been her intention, when she finally reached his side, but the moment her hip grazed his, their arms touching and his hair tickling her scalp, her hand darted out to trace a line up his spine. He shivered, looked down at her with blank curiosity, but he didn’t ask her to stop. So she didn’t.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one who needed someone tonight. 

“Let’s… let’s go upstairs,” she rasped softly. “Your bath should still be hot if it’s by the fire.”

Rumple nodded, and gladly took her hand as she led him upstairs. They both glanced back at the door, back at Bae, but the fact that they couldn’t yet see him spurred them forward. 

They barely shut the door behind them, barely had the chance to take in the familiar old room, before their lips were glued together and their hands were roving. 

Belle pushed him back towards the tub, tearing off her cloak, his shirt, their shoes, as she marched him back. He was still a wild kisser, completely devoid of finesse but everything about passion, and she moaned for him as he ripped her dress down the front, not caring to waste any more time than she did. 

“Gods, I missed this,” he groaned. “Missed you.” 

She smiled, cheeks sore from lack of practice, and kissed him harder before murmuring, “I missed you, too. I think about you every night.” 

Rum broke apart from her raggedly, his hair a mess of dirt, tears, and the angles Belle had made of it while she was kissing him, to sit at the edge of the basin. His pants were tight in the front now, straining to be let free, and it took both her hands and his to get them off. She wanted to look at him, to stroke him and wrap her lips around his head until he forgot all the sorrows of tonight, but his eyes demanded all of her attention. 

He lifted his hand, shaking, and brushed her curls away from her face. She saw him blink at her naked body, and flushed from her breasts to her thighs at the way his gaze heated, but his eyes were back on hers in an instant. A low whine grew from her chest at how bloodshot they were, but at least they were chocolate again instead of coal. 

“I need to tell you something,” he said, petting her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “And you don’t have to say anything back. I just need you to know… Belle, I… I love you.”

She froze. Every signal in her brain exploded, her heart stilled lest it beat too hard at words he hadn’t actually said. 

“You… you love me?” 

Rum nodded, shy and scared as always but no less passionate than before. “I think I have since the first time I touched you. And not just because of your body, I swear it. You made me feel… you make me feel like I can actually do things. No one ever did that for me before.” He cupped her face more purposefully, and drew his thumb under her eye. He was shaking, and it wasn’t until he removed his hand that she realized he’d been wiping away her tears. 

She whimpered, and lunged for him again before he could get it in his head to stand up. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him to her as close as she dared, and she leaned into him until their foreheads touched. 

“I love you, too, Rum.” 

His eyes snapped open, disbelieving and hopeful and it was too much for Belle to take. She slammed her mouth on his again, so hard that they both fell into the water below. Neither of them cared. 

“Why didn’t you say something before?” she pleaded, nipping at the supple flesh of his bottom lip while he licked the roof of her mouth. His hands were everywhere at once – her breasts, her thighs, her waist – and it was all she could do to keep talking. 

He separated from her with a growl and dug his teeth into her collarbone, too soft to actually cause pain but hard enough that she knew he was there. She endeavored to teach him how to mark her later if they remembered. 

“I felt like a traitor,” he said, mouthing clumsily all over her skin as he tried to drink her in. “I came to you for help with my marriage, and I wound up half in love with you instead. And then the second time… you deserve so much better than me, Belle. I never, never dreamed that you… you –”

“I love you,” she repeated. 

The words were all he needed. He kept his eyes open for her this time, pupils blown and filled with lust, as he dove back for her mouth, kissing her breathless and leaving her wetter than the water. 

This time, she was the one that broke their connection, leaving him staggering for her as she backed away. The water around them was already brown with grime, but still Rumple wasn’t clean. And much as she wanted him, as surreally happy as she was that – miraculously – he loved her back, she’d come here intent on helping him. 

“Lean back,” she asked, embarrassed by how needy and breathless her voice sounded. Her embarrassment ebbed, though, when she felt him grow taut beneath her arse. “And hand me the sponge behind you.”

He did immediately as she asked, just as surprised as she’d been to realize that a stool of soap and cloths sat behind them. Still, he handed her the sponge, and watched her deliberately as she pushed it into the water and wrung it out. 

“Close your eyes.”

His eyes fluttered, but he didn’t completely give in, eyes cracked open just a bit so he could stare as she moved up his body, scooting up the length of his cock so she could reach his grimy hair. The water that seeped out from the strands was almost black, but Belle couldn’t bring herself to care – not when he’d taken the opportunity of sucking her nipple into his mouth while she leant over him. 

Belle groaned. “I see you still remember your lessons.”

Below her, Rumple blinked up in confusion, and Belle wiggled back against is balls until his eyes fluttered shut once more. She bent down to kiss his ear, allowing herself to suck the lobe between her teeth, before muttering, “My breasts love to be touched.” 

Rumple hissed, bucking his hips as he tried to find some relief, but Belle kept washing. Up and down his hips she slid, scrubbing off all the dirt on his body until the water around them looked more like mud. By that time, he was so hard against her lips, and she so wet with wanting, that waiting even another second seemed torturous. 

She helped him to his feet, careful where he stepped on his bad ankle, and led him quickly to the bed, spreading her legs for him as soon as her wet flesh hit the mattress. Neither of them had room for waiting, and, as soon as he was on the bed with her, his fingers brushing her unsurely just to make sure she was ready, he was inside her. 

They both gasped at the sensation, every memory, every touch they’d shared the previous two times coming back into play. Rumple cursed lowly into her neck, hips thrusting forward at an awkward angle, and the pain they’d kept away thus far came back – it was clear that he hadn’t had anyone in the year they’d been apart, either.  
“Put… put my legs on your shoulders,” she begged hoarsely. She lowered her arms to grip his arse, knowing it would spur him on, and was pleased when he immediately reached down to do as she said. They both cursed this time, his cock so much deeper in her womb this time and her clit pulsing maddeningly against his base. 

“Move.” 

Rumple howled to the ceiling, overcome just as much as she was, but he plowed into her all the same. No other words were spoken, just longing glances and lustful touches as he held her knees behind his head and smashed into her pussy.

He was close, she could feel it in every shaking movement of his body, and Belle didn’t hesitate to move one of her hands around to the front to stroke herself off. He moaned when she accidentally touched him, then again when he realized what she was actually trying to do, and the both of them only made it a handful of seconds longer before stars burst behind their eyes and their shouts intermingled in the air. And when they both collapsed, boneless and exhausted and spent in every way imaginable, they smiled with the knowledge that they’d both screamed “I love you” as they came.

It wasn’t tell Rum fell drowsily into her arms, accidentally brushing her fingers as she spooned against him, that she remembered a few hours were quite literally all she had. That she was engaged. That the dream she’d concocted for her and Rum and Bae would never come true.

But for a few more hours, they could sleep. For a few more hours, she could dream.


	4. Part 4

Safe Words - Part 4  
Rating: NC-17

Author’s Note: Tumblr thought it could get the best of me, but it was WRONG! I’m back, my lovelies! And so is this! I’d like to say that I wished I had something happier (and better written) for you to read, but, well, it’s been over a month, so what you get is sub-par angst instead. Still, hope you enjoy :D

 

A gust of wind brushed Belle’s face, easing her gently from her slumber. For a moment, she almost smiled, relaxed by the soft breeze and the comfortable but mysterious weight on her body. Instead, though, she clenched her eyes shut against it, stomach all but churning with dread. She knew better than to think she’d wake up so easily. She’d learned to anticipate the harsh raps of King George’s guards at the door, the shouts from her father to get up, the blinding light of a candle lit at her nightstand to keep her from relaxing. Her window was never left open anymore. The wind only blew in those rare moments when the guards or her maids opened and shut her door. 

She sighed, preparing herself for another day of captivity, and let her eyes flutter open. But there was nothing – no candles, no guards, no servants – in sight. The room was cloaked in darkness, the only visible light being the dim glow of the moon outside.

Curious, she lifted her head, slowly blinking her eyes until they adjusted. It had been ages since she’d last woken up to the moon, impossible when George’s guards so detested the idea of her staying up past 10 or sleeping in after 6. The last time she had she’d still been taking up her room in the inn. And, now that she could actually see, she realized she was in the inn. Not her room, nor even the top floor, but definitely the same building. But why…? 

The weight on her body shifted, resting heavily against her breasts now instead of her stomach. A cheek nuzzled the skin there, rough against her nipple but soft to the touch. If she hadn’t looked down, hadn’t seen the thatch of dark hair beneath her chin, she might’ve been afraid. But she’d recognize that hair anywhere. 

Rumple.

A small smile crossed her face. With him in her arms, she could remember everything that she’d forgotten about last night. How he’d scaled her walls to get to her. How they’d run to the inn after she’d fooled her maid. How he’d told her he loved her. And Bae. 

She sighed, lifting her hand to caress her cheek as he nuzzled against her. She thought he might hum in his sleep, maybe shift closer to her touch, but, instead, he rolled onto his side, pressing his mouth tenderly to the skin below her collarbone. He blinked up at her, his eyes lighter than she’d ever seen them, as he carefully took her nipple between his lips. He didn’t stop looking at her. 

Her whole body shook. “What are you doing?” 

He yawned around her nipple, but did not release it from his teeth. “I’m suckling you,” he answered tiredly. “Do you not like it?”

Belle chuckled. “No, it’s wonderful. Might be my new favorite way to wake up,” she grinned, ruffling his bath dampened hair from his head. “You just surprised me.”

He smiled – a true, happy smile that stretched across his whole face – and returned his focus to her breasts. She shivered with pleasure, and not just from having him suck the tight buds into his mouth.

Careful not to dislodge him, she scooched up on the pillows, resting her head against the wall. She looked down, expecting to see her Rumple buried under the covers, but the sheets were nowhere to be found. He was stretched out before her, legs spread, nude, unselfconscious in a way that she never thought possible. The muscles of his arse clenched with every nip of his teeth on her breast, and she couldn’t hide the small moan that rose from her mouth at the sight. 

Yes, this was certainly her new favorite way to wake up. 

Unable to help herself, she shifted again on the pillows, drawing her hips up to graze against his belly. He slipped down with her, her nipples falling from his lips with a loud pop. He didn’t stop kissing her, his mouth moving feverishly against her chest, her stomach, her hands. Eyes dark, he wrapped all of her fingers with gentle kisses, telling her beautiful things without ever saying a word. She could feel him on her thigh, just barely rigid, but his cock was hot and smooth on her skin, and that was enough. 

She rolled her hips again, and he bucked his in response. A moment after, though, he winced, hands and knees alike digging into the mattress beside her in pain. Immediately, she sat herself up the rest of the way, looking worriedly at his bad foot. She’d almost forgotten how red it was the night before, swollen and covered in blood, and, though the latter no longer applied, it was still mottled with bruises. 

“Oh, your ankle –”

“It’s just the medicine kicking in,” he interrupted. “I went downstairs while you were still sleeping. I’ll be fine in a minute if… if you want to have another go.”

His cheeks flared red, hot enough almost to rival the smoldering look in his eyes. Belle rubbed her thighs together, warm and wet once more, already anticipating his touch, but she shook the thought away. Bizarrely, she didn’t want to make love to him just yet. Well, she did – how could she not, when he looked so lovely plied to her breasts? – but, more than that, she just wanted to hold him in her arms and enjoy his company. She wanted to love him, not make love to him. 

The realization would’ve terrified her if it hadn’t been exactly what she wanted.

With a grin, she swiped the loose tendrils of hair from his brow. “You said you went downstairs,” she said softly. “How’s Bae?”

It was the right thing to ask. In an instant, the lust in his eyes gave way to a look of pure adoration and gratitude. 

“Better,” he sighed in relief. “Much, much better. He was asleep when I saw him, but his fever’s finally gone.” She felt his breath against her stomach, warm and gentle. “I can never, never, thank you enough, Belle. You… you brought him back to me.”

Belle chuckled, even as she caressed his forehead with her thumb. “All I did was get Doctor Zephyr. You should be thinking him, not me.”

“But you didn’t have to. You shouldn’t have.” He picked himself up from her belly, edging towards her so slowly and timidly that she wondered if he was still afraid she’d bolt. There was no humor on his face – he was dead serious. “You don’t understand, Belle. No one ever does things like this for me. No one ever… no one –”

She hushed him with a quick kiss to his mouth. “Maybe they don’t, but how could I not?” she murmured. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

A trembling moan left his lips. “Say… say it again,” he begged. 

Belle didn’t even hesitate. “I love you.”

“I love you, Belle,” he agreed. “So much.”

His lips, his tongue, his teeth were suddenly everywhere, consuming her, swallowing her. She whimpered, her own lust and his overcoming her need to just lay with him. Heat trailed down her thighs, coating his thickened cock, and he grunted when she ran her fingers through his hair. 

Rumple left her face again, trailing down her breasts and arms to his new favorite place on her belly. A thrill went through her, anticipation that he might move a little lower – even though he never had before – filling her to her bones. But, instead, he paused at her hips, looking at her free hand with as much conviction as he’d ever looked into her eyes. Hesitantly, pressed his lips to the skin there, nuzzling her ring finger just as he’d nuzzled her breasts. She smiled and closed her eyes, her other hand still working smoothly on his hair. 

“If I could,” he sighed, still kissing circles around her finger, “I would put a ring here one day. One made out of gold, and diamonds. We could sell the cottage and buy a bigger house, where Bae could have his own room. I wish…”

Belle cut him off with a gentle tug on his hair. “I know. That’s what I want, too.” 

She exhaled, then withdrew her hand from his lips so she could card both of them through his scalp. His hair was so soft – she would be content to play with it all day. Every day. If only it were possible.

He sighed. “I can’t afford the gold yet, but maybe something simple. You’re worth better than that, but just for now.”

A corner of her lip twitched up, but she didn’t really smile this time. 

“I’d love that,” she muttered. “If it weren’t for King George, I would in a heartbeat.”

He hadn’t seen her face, his lips having dropped back to kiss the skin of her torso again. “What about King George?”

“The wedding,” she grumbled. “I leave in just a few weeks for his kingdom. I don’t know why, the ceremony won’t be for another six months.” 

Rumple’s lips went still on her, mouth half-open below her ribs. She couldn’t feel his breath anymore.

Curious, she opened her eyes and looked down at him. He hadn’t moved, his face still buried against her, but she could tell something was different. He’d frozen like ice in her arms. All of him, not just his breath but every single inch of his body, suddenly felt cold.

“Rum?”

Slowly, his head rose from her stomach, his eyebrows drawn tightly together and his cheeks all but hollowed by the set of his jaw. 

“Wedding?” he whispered. “What wedding?” 

Belle stared at him bemusedly. It couldn’t have slipped his mind that she would be leaving, not when it consumed her every thought and burned her as she touched him. “My wedding,” she said carefully. “To King George.”

She expected him to look away, perhaps gather himself for a moment like she’d grown so used to doing, then go back to touching her so he could forget. It was what she would’ve done. But his face didn’t move from hers, not even an inch. His hands remained glued to the sheets beside her. And there was such a wealth of pain in his eyes, an emptiness far worse than the burned-out coals she’d seen when he lost his wife, that she couldn’t breathe either. Her hand stilled horridly in his hair.

He didn’t know.

“You… you’re getting married?”

Belle let her eyes well up, not knowing what else to do, or say, or feel. “Yes, I… I thought you knew. I thought… Rum –”

He silenced her be slinging his legs off the bed, not even bothering to cover himself up as he leaned away from her. Tears pricked her eyes – he didn’t stand, didn’t make any motion to leave her, but this, this distance between them while he sat so close, was a thousand time worse. 

"You shouldn’t have let me touch you," he said softly. "You should’ve left with the doctor last night."

Pushing her sobs aside, she gripped him about his shoulders, trying to tug him into laying back down. If he would let him touch her, she could make him forget. She could make them both forget. Fucking was the only thing she knew how to do right – caring for him only gave him pain. 

"I wanted to be with you," she whimpered, tugging once more on his shoulders. "Please, Rumple, I’m sorry." 

He didn’t move near her. He didn’t move at all. It was as if he’d been turned into stone. But finally, after a moment, he tilted his head in her direction. There weren’t tears in his eyes when he looked at her. There wasn’t anything in his eyes. The joy she’d seen in them only minutes ago had faded and been replaced with emptiness. 

"When I said I love you, and you… you said it back," he whispered. "And then you held me, and I felt… I’d hoped…" He hung his head and looked away, his whole body sinking away from hers. This wasn’t a man who was heartbroken, nor one who wanted to die. She was looking at a man who didn’t want to exist at all. And her heart was already shattered, so the sight of him so dejected was left to pierce her soul. "I’m a fool. For believing in things I can’t have.”

She sat up on her knees, tossing the sheets frantically to one side. “But you can have me!” she pleaded. “All of me! Here, please.”

She took his hand in hers, yanking it to her breast and pushing his fingers until they squeezed. His hand was rough against her nipple, just the right sort of friction, and she could let herself believe for a moment that everything would be fine. Then she let go, and his hand fell once more to his side. 

“No,” he whispered. “King George is not a forgiving man. If he ever found out… Bae can’t lose both of his parents. He can’t. Not even… not even for you.” He snorted mirthlessly. “A man who won’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

Belle stopped, staring at him aghast and in pain. Those words sounded rehearsed, as if he’d said them to himself a hundred times or more. Shaking, she reached for him once more, wanting to just pull him into her body and make him forget. But he beat her to it. One hand on her shoulder, one still at his side, and his eyes looking everywhere but her naked body.

“I’ll be fine,” he choked. “You gave me three nights, that’s more than anyone else ever has. It’ll be enough. It is enough.” 

He sat back, even as his hand gripped her hip a little tighter. His eyes closed, lungs releasing one last breath as his fingers finally left her side. This was it, she realized. She thought she had him back. 

Rumple opened his eyes, no sign of tears, no sign of anything, in their depths. And then he lunged for her.

“No it isn’t.” 

His fingers dug into her hips, all but bruising her as he tugged her close. She could feel his cock on her belly, thick despite the flow of his tears, and that, plus the guilt and pain in his eyes when he realized how hard he was holding her, made her wish that she could just die. 

“I won’t leave my son,” he sobbed. “But I can’t let you go. Not now.”

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to. She wanted to tell him he could have the world if he wanted, if only it would keep his heart from breaking. Her own was too far gone, her spirit quickly headed in the same direction, and that left her with the pain she could feel from Rumple himself. But the moment she opened her mouth, he dove in head first, licking her, tasting her, as if that could help him. Not that she knew any better – as she’d said, fucking was the only thing she could do right.

Ignoring her own tears, she pulled him down, hard, sending them both onto the floor as she kissed him. She felt the ache on her back as she landed, heard Rumple’s hiss as his ankle slammed against the bedpost, but neither of them even paused for breath. The physical pain was necessary now to rid them of the real anguish. 

Using him as leverage, she hauled herself up until she was straddled above him, rocking against his hip while she continued to nip at him. He was the first to break, tearing his mouth from hers to press angry, hateful bites to her neck. It burned her with pleasure and loathing alike, and she gripped his hair that much harder to keep him in place. This was a punishment she deserved. 

“I can’t stay like this,” he growled, rocking against her cunt until his head pressed against her lips. “I should go, before anyone finds us. It isn’t safe.”

Belle shook her head, holding him fast as if that would change his mind. She wasn’t sure if it did, but at least he didn’t stop touching her. 

A particularly harsh bite shook her to her core, bathing her legs and his with thick pools of her heat. She rocked against him, needing something, needing anything. Crying, she begged into his ear, pleaded with him to keep going, to give them both what they needed. What went unspoken was that this might be their very last time to have it. 

“I can’t… I can’t do this.” His cock slid through her juices, coating every inch of skin between them. “It isn’t safe.” The head peeked into her, just enough to give her something to clench around. They both hissed, gripping each other’s shoulders as if that would help. He met her eyes. 

And then he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Belle.” 

Her walls clamped down on nothing, trying to keep him in place even as he left her. She saw him shiver, knew that the pleasure had to be affecting him as much as it did her, but he resisted. In a moment, he’d be gone, no matter how much she threw herself at him. But she had to try. 

Panicked, she bent them double and went for the first thing that came to mind. Her hand fisted about his cock. 

He couldn’t stay for her, but maybe she could make it good enough for him… good enough that he’d want to anyway.

“Belle?” he hissed. 

She didn’t look at him. She’d stooped low enough to beg for sex so he’d stay with her, and she couldn’t stand to see him with such shame in her eyes. Especially when it didn’t even begin to amount to the agony she felt at the idea of him going away. 

“Just… just relax,” she whimpered. “It’ll feel good, I swear.”

Careful not to arouse herself anymore, she dipped her other fingers into her opening, plucking at herself until her hand was soaked. She could feel Rumple’s eyes blacken with desire as he stared, but she didn’t let that stop her, plying the silky moisture from her body onto his. He shivered, and shivered more when she began to stroke him to the time of their beating hearts. 

She closed her eyes as she bent her head, bathing him with her breath, and his stammering started all over again.

“Oh, no, fuck,” he cried. “You don’t – no one’s ever – you don’t want that –”

She didn’t bother with trying to interrupt him. If she did, she’d only cry over the fact that, even in betrayal, he put her first. The time for words was gone – she had more important uses for her mouth. 

With a final gulp of air, she bent her head, and took all of him into her mouth. 

Rumple went rigid. His cock pulsed, slapping the inside of her cheek, but the rest of him was stock still. He’d even stopped breathing. 

Breathing through her nostrils, she bobbed off of him and pushed him down against the floorboards.

“It’s okay, Rumple, it’s okay. Just this. We can have this.”

She still couldn’t stand to look at him, but she heard him gulp. The base of him was thick in her palm, filling her just as completely as he’d ever filled her pussy or her mouth, and she knew by the way he twitched that he was already ready to cum. But still he hesitated.

“Please.” Her tears made her vision blur, but she kept her eyes on his cock all the same. “Please, I… I need this. I need you. Please…” 

The last “please” sent a shiver through his body. She waited, impatient and sobbing, for him to push her away like the whore she’d made herself to be tonight. 

He never did.

Slow, soft, he pulled himself forward, shaking all the while, and buried his hand in her hair. 

“Just… just one more time,” he gulped. 

He leant against her head, his chin brushing her curls, and that was the last incentive she needed. 

“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you, Rum –”

Her mouth enveloped him halfway through his name, cutting her off and all but gagging her in the process. She couldn’t care less. 

She heard him hiss again, a quiet curse followed by her name, and felt him nod against her head as he quivered. His cock was harder than she’d ever felt it, straining almost painfully in her hand, and she turned her face to kiss his belly, hoping it would soothe him. If anything, though, he only jerked against her harder, his head dotted with cream and the hairs about his stiff cock curling in on him as he continued to grow.

She pumped him harder, needing his orgasm more than she’d ever needed her own. She wanted his world to leave him, replaced by one where only the two of them and Bae existed. One where his nights spent in her bed were an eternal promise of their love, not an illegal rebellion that neither of them could stop. 

“Please, Rumple,” she begged. “Let me make you happy. Let me make you happy for once, please.”

He choked, yanking her hair hard so that her face was tilted toward his as she sucked him off. His eyes weren’t dark and lustful like those of the other men she’d kissed like this, nor shameful like she was sure her own were. No, they contained something worse. They showed every ounce of love she knew he felt for her. 

“You always make me happy, Belle,” he groaned. “You are my happiness. I love you.”

Those final words broke him. With a shuddering cry, he latched onto the bedpost and thrust into her mouth, filling her with strand upon strand of milky cum. She swallowed it greedily, mopping him up as he continued to writhe. Her quaking fingers found their way to his bollocks, stroking them, squeezing them, in hopes of getting out every last drop. 

When he was finally soft in her mouth, she let him go and stood on shaking feet. She expected him to follow, to grab his cane and head out the door as fast as his bum leg would allow. But he stayed still, curled lax and restful on the ground. She’d done her job a little too well, it seemed – he certainly wouldn’t be leaving the room anytime soon.

A flicker of light out the window caught her eye. The brightest star in the distance was starting to fade, surrounded by whitening sky. Morning was coming. And the guards would be looking for her. 

She looked to her clothes in the corner, to Rumple’s laying beside them. She looked at the bath, still filled with muddy water from the night before. She looked at Rumple, too tired even to get up and argue with her. 

Her choice wasn’t remotely difficult to make. 

With a sigh, she tugged the blankets from the bed and wrapped them around her Rumplestiltskin. Her own body she laid on top of those, close enough to feel his heat but not close enough. 

Tears filled her eyes as she traced the lines on his face. She wouldn’t lose him. Not now. No matter what she had to do, what she had to say… she wouldn’t let him go away. 

Quietly, she pressed a kiss to his earlobe and snuggled into his side. “We’ll figure something out, Rumple,” she sniffled. “I promise you, we’ll figure something out.”


End file.
